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Give A Hand For Mr Norman W. Smith (The Upright Nature Of Last Names)

June 14, 2012

My feet hurt in gleaming
boots,
In the dance of life
all have the same roots,
I can only ponder
trees,
and daydream sunlit forests,
my sorrow heart,
tears at disease, 
and how
we all should wear poetry vests,
And heaven,
so different, so far, so
barely understood,
so I try something
different:
staying off strangely tempting chemicals that
promise nothing real,
just alter how I think and truly feel,
Such a clear word sober,
And I think someone
Should say God is awesome,
Give a hand to Norman Smith,
Give a hand for Norman Smith,
Some of us actors
are acting truth,
do what you can to stay
in your youth,
God tells me,
“You have to make money,” yet the point is something else, some kind of sad yet happy love is who I am, I have to learn to be the best I can, learn her story,
Help as much as I can,
Behave in such a way,
That does not shame me as a man,

The shape and structure
of hallucinated argon flames,
How can a flyer hold God’s eight billion names,
and all the games be peaceful love games, ’cause when the book said the light separated from the darkness it was good, and I wondered if the modern Bible was an excuse for segregation, and I love all the colors of my neighborhood, and how I 
hate racist misdirection, 
and do my friends and I have to be poor, 
because I don’t think we need manipulated poverty,
that’s why my wealth is poetry, and I  love the people that I see, and love is being able to really see, and some day when we are free from tragedy, I will ponder wistfully,
the upright nature
of last names.

rule is such a dirty word,
you get more songs from a mockingbird,
and your reflection in my eyes is what makes them beautiful.
Love Is the sight of the people I see,
I only hope that love is me.

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